One Way Street
by Cera Toynbee
Summary: The youngest member of the Brotherhood has a problem...


Now, I know they're have been a few Todd-suicide fics out there, but this one is different. ONE: Todd DOESN'T succeed in his attempt(s). TWO: This is going to be more than one chapter. And THREE: there will be other stuff here besides Todd-angst.  
  
Disclaimer- Mesa owna notin, yousa understand?  
  
Oh, yeah. This chapter is all Lance, but the others will have each of the guy's POV's, kay? Lance is just starting out and introducing you to the probl- *claps hand over mouth* JUST READ IT!! And review...  
  
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One Way Street  
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Tick.  
  
Tick.  
  
Tick.  
  
Tick.  
  
Lance stared absently into his coffee, every so often glancing at the clock. This had been a common ritual for the past few weeks; staying up late into the night, keeping a lookout for the Brotherhood's youngest member.  
  
Sometimes, he would trade shifts with Pieto or Fred, to get some sleep, but only rarely. It wasn't that he didn't trust the other two to handle the situation if it happened again, which they knew by now it would. He did. He knew Freddy and Pietro were perfectly capable. He just felt...better...when he was watching.   
  
Lance sighed and took a slow sip of his coffee, looking with a subdued sense of longing at the large clock.  
  
1:46 a.m.  
  
He groaned softly and looked back down to his coffee. 'When's the last time I slept?' He instantly regretted the mental question when the answer came, hitting him like a slap in the face.  
  
'The night before Todd first attempted suicide.'  
  
Lance dropped his head into his hands and took a shaky breath. As he was telling himself to calm down and not think about it, he heard a squeak on the stairs. Looking up, he saw the object of his tortured thoughts standing uncertainly at the top of the steps. Seeing that Lance was there and watching him, Todd quickly turned and fled to his room.  
  
Closing his eyes tightly, Lance reluctantly allowed his mind to drift back to that horrific night.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Can't catch me, can't catch me!"  
  
"Pietro! Give it back or I'll kill you!"  
  
Lance ran after the white-haired boy at top speed, the fact that fact the Pietro could out run a jet plane not seeming to register within his mind. All he could think of right now was getting that paper out of Pietro's possession.   
  
Pietro paused in the middle of the hallway and began to read in an overly dramatic voice. "Dear Kitty, I just wanted to tell you that I like you. Really like you. In fact, I like you so much I can't even put into words how much I l-like...li-iking...y-you..." Pietro tried to hold back his laughter and failed miserably.  
  
"I'll kill you!"   
  
Lance lunged for the speed-demon and to avoid the older boy's deadly wrath, Pietro opened the bathroom door and darted inside, still laughing. Lance growled and stepped towards the door. "Maximoff! You are s-"  
  
He was cut off by a horrified scream.  
  
Suddenly panicked, he threw open the bathroom door, only to stop dead in shock at the sight before him.  
  
Pietro was bending over Todd, pressing a washcloth frantically to the boy's bleeding wrists, whispering over and over, "Oh my God, oh my God...". Todd was lying on the floor face pale, lips blue, eyes half-shut. The only sign he was still alive was the subtle rise and fall of his chest.  
  
Lance stopped breathing.  
  
He couldn't move, he couldn't think. The only thing he could do was watch. Watch as the life flowed from his friend in a river of red liquid. He was jolted back to reality by Pietro's yelling.  
  
"Lance! Call an ambulance! Oh, God, Lance! What the HELL is the matter with you! Call an ambulance!"  
  
Lance took of down the stairs yelling for Freddy, who had come out of his room a the sounds of their screaming, to go up and help Pietro. Meanwhile, he ran into the kitchen and grabbed the phone. 9-1-1  
  
"911 emergencies, how may I help you?"  
  
"I need an ambulance! My friend slit his wrists...Oh, God. Hurry! Please, please hurry..."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Lance sighed. That had been one of the worst days of his life.   
  
And it hadn't stopped there.  
  
After his first failed attempt, Todd tried again. And again. And again. A total of six times Todd either slit his wrists or ODed on Tylenol or tried to hang himself. It had grown to the point where Lance, Fred, and Pietro had to watch the younger boy constantly, had to lock away or hide all sharp objects or medication for fear of Todd attempting and succeeding.  
  
Todd no longer spoke to them. He didn't eat, barely slept, locked himself in his room for hours on end. Their quirky younger brother had transformed into a pale, sullen skelaton, arms criss-crossed with white scars.  
  
And the worst part was...they didn't even know why.  
  
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So, what think you? More soon!   
  
(sooner if I get encouragement! Hint, hint, HINT!)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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